An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3)

by Haviland, Nancy

  While that was being settled, Maks had pulled up one of his favorite toys that showed the street view of pretty much any street, road, lane, avenue, and so on, in the world. They made their plan and were off. He and Micha wandered slowly down the street, close enough together that people seeing them would get that uncomfortable uh-oh-don’t-look-at-the-gays and avert their eyes. Fucking idiots. V and Quan circled the long way and would meet them around back.

  “Fucking takedown in broad daylight,” Micha muttered.

  “Look at the neighborhood. No one will care.”

  “I almost made out with a guy once,” came a casual announcement that shocked the fuck out of Maks. Thank Christ he knew Micha was attempting a distraction and wasn’t considering making things awkward between them. “He was a Hungarian colonel who’d stolen a chip filled with information that could have done some real damage had it made it to those who knew what to do with it. He carried it around with him, in a small locket around his skinny neck. Had to get close enough to snag it without him knowing. Luckily, my dirty talk was distraction enough and I didn’t have to lock lips with him.”

  They were twenty yards from the driveway. The blue Lincoln could be seen behind the closed wooden gate. “What was it like being in that type of sitch with another guy?” Maks asked curiously. Again, not much was taboo to him when it came to sex. Certainly not experimenting. He hadn’t ever had the urge, but he sure as fuck didn’t judge anybody who did. Not after some of the stuff he had done.

  “Bony. And I knew without having to sample that I’d prefer fuller lips. And two sets.”

  Maks’s mouth turned up, and then his mind was wiped of everything but what they were doing because they’d arrived. In the next blink, they’d both hopped the fence with sideways leaps and were crouching, Glocks at their thighs as they duck-walked alongside a cube van.

  “Cover me,” Maks mouthed, pointing to his eyes and then the first-level windows.

  Micha’s lips thinned, and he slipped ahead so that he was the one doing the checking. What the fuck? He usually allowed Maks to call the shots.

  While Micha peeked into the three windows, two light thumps sounded near the rear of the yard, which was less than twenty feet away. Maks looked over to see V and Quan squatting behind an abandoned torn patio umbrella that was lying on its side, ratty tassels flapping in the cold breeze. V gestured that he had a door in his sights and they were heading toward it. Maks nodded and looked back to Micha, who motioned like a girl pulling her pigtails under her chin and then someone doing dishes.

  Eleanor must be in the kitchen. Fuck.

  Unable to wait, Maks went for the door anyway, even though he could tell just by looking that when he entered she’d be able to see him. Unless he lucked out and there was an inside door leading into the kitchen. If it was closed, he’d be hidden. Yanking a mini-can of WD-40 from his pocket, he sprayed the top and bottom hinges, waited a ten-count to make sure it had enough time to seep in, and then opened the screen door—not a squeak to be heard. Checking the handle, he was aware in his periphery of Micha at his right and Quan at his left. He looked to Quan, who nodded, meaning V must be set to enter the house. Nice.

  Taking out his trusty tension wrench—rather than draw attention by smashing one of the small square glass panes—he inserted it into the lock, swiftly set the pins, and torqued the wrench. Voila. Snick. The door opened. He nodded to Quan, who nodded to V, and silently entered the small house. Just as he looked up to his left, Eleanor looked down. Her eyes widened, but, possibly used to strange men visiting her father, she didn’t open her mouth to scream.

  Until she saw V. Then the poor little peanut widened that yap, took a breath, and her warning was cut off by Vincente’s wide palm. Maks could see V speaking into her ear, and when Eleanor’s gaze went straight to the basement, he moved. There was no door to breach down there, so when he appeared before the small living area, Eberto got a full-on view of him. The ending to what the bastard had been saying into the phone at his ear never made it out.

  “I have your kid, you cunt. If you want him—”

  Eberto dropped the phone, eyes all spooked horse, as Maks lunged for him. Since no weapon was out, Maks dropped his. “I want him,” he snarled as he latched on to the skin of the guy’s jaw and viciously smashed the back of his head into the wall. Plaster cracked and broke, and Eberto had somewhat of a fit.

  There was no control or structure to his attack, just pure desperation. So it was a piece of cake for Maksim to do what he had to do. Because he suddenly felt as relaxed as if he were sitting on a sandy beach drinking a margarita.

  He started with the legs. Getting Eberto in a reverse headlock, he swiftly jerked Angelina from her sheath to run that glinting blade across the backs of the guy’s knees, severing the tendons so the ability to walk was taken. The sharp scream that filled the room closed up Maks’s ears but he ignored it and kept going. As much as he wanted to linger and cause the guy as much pain as he could withstand, Maksim also just wanted to kill him and get the fuck to wherever he’d stashed Andy. Had the sedative Micha given Sydney worn off yet? he wondered as he felt a weak right connect with his cheek—guy fought like a girl. The burn that came with being cut registered on his ribs, and it took nothing to chop into that forearm and send the blade Eberto had palmed flying. Uncaring that he’d gotten clipped, and tired of the feeble hits, Maks put Angelina to use again on the tendons at the inner elbow, rendering both of the Mexican’s arms useless.

  “There. Now you’re as helpless to me as that young boy was to you,” he growled over the agonized howls. Clamping a hand over Eberto’s gaping mouth, he came in close. “So many fatal mistakes were made on your part, Morales. How many was your brother really in on? Will I be going to him when I’m through with you? Or are you going to absolve the man who clearly covered your ass your whole life?”

  The memory of Sydney rocking back and forth in the front seat of the Hummer came to mind. Then the scars two twelve-year-old kids would now have to live with. And then came the remembered sound of Tegan’s hoarse voice.

  “What did you do to the doctor, you cocksucker?” he demanded.

  “Nice . . . tits,” Eberto slurred as he curled his upper lip in the spookiest smile Maks had ever seen.

  His fist hammered into the Mexican’s face with a series of punches. The last sent Eberto’s eyes rolling, and with no regret or hesitation, Maks grasped both sides of his head and twisted hard, snapping the Mexican’s neck to end the morbid, one-sided altercation. A gunshot might have made a nosey neighbor suspicious, so he’d chosen the silent alternative.

  As Maks shoved himself off the body and got to his feet to look around, he deliberately wiped his mind. He couldn’t let himself think about what Tegan might have gone through yet.

  There was only one other door down here, and it had a small window at eye level, as a cell door would. And fuck if that didn’t bring back some pleasant shit. Putting his back to the wall, not 100 percent trusting in Eberto being on his own, Maks ducked forward and back in front of the small opening as if he were a seagull in a McDonald’s parking lot. Nothing came at him, so he took a longer gander, and what he saw ripped the scars off the wounds of his past and made him bleed rivers. He struggled for breath, his airways instantly sealing, and tore that door out of his way so fast it slammed against the wall like a clap of thunder—didn’t even think booby trap, but dimly noted a slug never entered his chest.

  All he really had in his head was the need to get Sydney’s boy out of that fucking cell!

  Andy jumped to his feet from where he’d been sitting on a small cot, a hoarse shout coming from his throat. Then he blinked those amethyst eyes so like his mother’s. Maks felt as if a knife were twisting in his gut as he watched that handsome young face with dried blood under his nose and on his chin crumple. “Russia?”

  Holy fuck. Maks looked around and spotted the goddamned key hanging
on a nail just near the door. Prime strategy to torment victims. Let them see their freedom was just out of their reach. He grabbed it and hustled over to unlock the cell door. The kid was still by the cot, but when Maks pushed that barred door in, Andy came to him as if released from a cannon.

  Their bodies hit, and Maks had to say he was glad the boy had taken the initiative, because it would have taken more than he had in him in that moment to step one foot inside that cell.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Andy whispered, his voice cracking.

  “Of course I’m here, kid. Where else would I be?” He put his cheek to the top of his blond head and held him tight. And for the first time since Maks left that cell in Russia and pledged his loyalty to Vasily, he thanked God. And it was no learned prayer for one of his men. No. He deliberately and concisely sent his own personal, heartfelt words up to heaven and thanked their creator for the gift he’d just given them in the form of this boy’s safety.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Andy repeated.

  A constant tremble was branching out from the boy’s body, so strong it was shaking Maks in his shoes. “Come here.” He brought him out into the living room, keeping Andy’s head turned away from where the Mexican’s body lay. “Sit.” They went down to the sofa. Andy didn’t let go. Maks didn’t either. He held Sydney’s son in the same way he’d craved his own father’s arms around him when he’d lain in that cell; his grip tight around Andy’s broadening back, the other clasping the boy’s head to his chest. “I’ve got you, buddy. There was no way I wasn’t coming for you. No fucking way.” He paused for a few breaths. “I’ve been here before, kid, and I understand the fear.” He gripped Andy’s jaw and brought his head up to hold his gaze. “It’s totally acceptable that you were scared. Don’t be embarrassed by that. It just means you’re smart. Only stupid people ignore their instincts, and fear is one of the best we’ve got.”

  The kid nodded. “You mean when you were in jail?”

  “No. Another time. But that’s a story for another day.”

  “My mom must be freaking out. Eberto said he had her and that his men had killed you and Micha. That’s why I went with him.”

  “If you knew me and Micha better, you’d have known immediately he was fucking lying,” Maks muttered. “And your mother did freak out, and she will again if we don’t get you back to her. We sedated her to save her sanity, but she’ll be waking soon.”

  “No kidding. Good thinking,” Andy murmured, sounding relieved. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Yeah, about that. I got some good news for you.”

  “I thought you were my good news,” Andy said around a strained chuckle that made his cheeks go ruddy. He finally pulled away.

  Feeling a goddamn blush hit his own face, Maks ruffled the kid’s already-mussed hair. But Andy’s attention was gone. He’d spotted Eberto.

  “You . . . did that?”

  Knowing this could get tricky, but also knowing he had to be honest, Maks nodded and looked over. The Mexican’s limbs were splayed and small pools of blood were forming around him. His head placement was way off and his eyes were wide open. “Yes. I did.”

  “’Cause of me and my mom? Or did you have a beef with him before?”

  “I’d never dealt with him before your mother came to me.”

  There was a new wariness in the kid’s gaze that hadn’t been there before when he looked at Maks. There was also gratitude. “Even though I’m kinda freaked out by that, thanks, Russia. Uh, so what’s the news?”

  Keeping a smile hidden, Maks got them up and urged him toward the stairs. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  He went up first and saw V sitting in an awkward position at a small dinette. It was clear the Reaper was trying to put off an I’m-just-a-harmless-guy-no-worries-here vibe. His dark gaze was on the girl, memories of his own little sister no doubt crowding him. Eleanor’s narrow shoulders were bowed right along with her head, fingernails being furiously picked at. She looked as though she was waiting to get into trouble.

  “This who you were hoping to see again?” Maks asked Andy as the boy entered the kitchen on his heels.

  It was impossible to say whose eyes bugged more.

  “Elli?”

  “Andy?”

  Their disbelieving whispers overlapped, and in the next instant, they met in the middle of the room and were clinging to each other in a hug too fierce for mere children. V jerked to his feet and slammed out into the backyard, coughing. Maks watched the interaction. The careful affection and quiet, comforting whispers Sydney’s son bestowed on this cowed girl was something that would stay with him forever.

  The boy had just found a place in his heart.

  CHAPTER 24

  Sydney surfaced from the darkness, already knowing something was wrong. She forced her heavy lids up and tried to focus on the wavering faces above her. Vasily and his daughter, Eva.

  “Easy.”

  Her sluggish gaze swung to the side to see Gabriel crouched next to her.

  She was dizzy, and her head felt thick, but the choking pressure in her chest, the awareness that something horrible had happened lived. Vasily ran his hand over her hair in a paternal way as she looked around for Maksim and An—

  Andrew!

  A stream of terror poured into her veins. “Where is he? Is he here?” She jerked upright so fast Eva jumped up from where she’d been sitting next to her to avoid a collision. The new position had Sydney’s vision warping, her brain feeling as if it were floating without an anchor. She shook her head to try to fix it and vaguely noted they were on the sofa in her loft. She didn’t care to question how they’d gotten here.

  “Maksim’s last message said he’s close.”

  Vasily’s calm voice should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. “Close? Where? Where is my son? That monster took my baby!” she screamed. Her boy. Her precious, precious boy. Gone. “Vasily.” She grasped the front of his jacket and jerked him. “My baby,” she wailed. “Do you understand that? He has my baby!”

  She didn’t know how long she railed—stating the obvious and looking for someone to blame but knowing she only had herself—but by the time she slumped into an exhausted heap, her forehead was on Vasily’s broad shoulder and she’d pretty much destroyed his pressed suit jacket with her tears and grasping hands. She didn’t care. A cup of tea was placed in front of her, but she couldn’t lift her head to even thank who she knew was Eva by the onyx nail polish.

  “. . . stay positive. Can you do that for me?” Vasily was saying.

  Sydney moved back and focused on his taught, stern features and was aware enough to appreciate his support. But that was it. She remained perched on her knees on the very edge of the cushions and dropped her eyes to stare down at her clasped hands as they trembled in her lap, wishing for her son with everything in her. Never had she thought she could love someone so much. She swallowed her rising emotions, her panic, her horror, and her fear. What was Eberto doing to him? Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

  “It makes no difference whose fault this is, Sydney. That ceased being an issue long ago.”

  Gabriel’s murmur told her she’d been speaking out loud. “Where is Maksim?” she rasped. Another one. He was out there searching. What if she lost both—?

  Vasily’s pat to her shoulder interrupted the panicked thought. “I’m sure he’ll be getting in touch any time now.”

  If he can. She dropped her head into her hands. What if the worst happened? What will I do? How will I survive? I did this to them. How will I go on without my child? Without Maksim?

  Her boys. Her men. Both of them gone.

  She whimpered as her brain squeezed in a vice and then she jerked upright when her wrists were clasped, her arms brought down.

  “You can’t think like that, Sydney,” Vasily ordered. He’d slid from the cushion and h
ad come down on his haunches in front of her. She hadn’t even noticed. “You can’t underestimate Maksim. The guy is a survivor, and he’s more possessive of what he thinks belongs to him than any of us. Whether he’s accepted it or not, he considers you—and subsequently, Andy—his, which means he will tear this city apart to get to your son. As I’ve told my daughter a time or two, have some faith in your man.”

  “I am his,” she admitted, needing to tell someone. “And he’s mine. I was scared and didn’t want it to happen, but it did, it really did, and now he’s mine. Him and Andrew. And I never told him. I didn’t tell him I loved him.” Her voice wavered in its high pitch. “I never told Andrew enough either. What if I don’t get the chance—?”

  Vasily’s phone going off had black spots dancing in her vision, and she held her breath as he whipped it from his pocket. His shoulders slumped forward and her heart stopped.

  Until he announced, “They got him. Maks found him, and your boy is fine.”

  Sydney broke.

  With guilt and remorse piercing his heart, Maks sent the text he’d just typed out and regretted like hell not being able to call Tegan, or better yet, go see her personally. But even though he didn’t want to, he knew he had to respect her wishes. If what Eberto had said . . . Jesus Christ. What had that fucker done to her? How far had he gone? Maks wasn’t sure he wanted to know, because with the Mexican already dead, he’d have no one to make pay for the sins against his best friend if he knew details of them. Putting his phone away when a reply wasn’t forthcoming, he figured he could do nothing but attempt patience. He’d give Tegan the time she’d asked for. But it wouldn’t last forever. He couldn’t let her leave his life. Leave their lives. She was too much a part of them.

  Having left a cleanup crew at the house, Maks sat in the backseat of the Hummer, the kids at his side. He liked the way they kept looking at each other, as if to reassure themselves they weren’t seeing things. Their hands never separated.